


Waterfalls

by Bunnywest



Series: Keep Calm and Read Steter [8]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Family Feels, Female Stiles Stilinski, Fluff, peter is a good father, pregnancy mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:55:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23572696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bunnywest/pseuds/Bunnywest
Summary: Peter and Stiles and Conor take a family vacation.
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Keep Calm and Read Steter [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1679953
Comments: 85
Kudos: 600





	Waterfalls

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous asked  
> "Would you do a snip of Stiles and Peter a few years down the road in the "Til Death" universe? Maybe a family trip to Niagara with an older Conor? Or just anything with them happy really."  
> and I mean, how could I not??
> 
> (A continuation of [Til Death](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14462247/chapters/33410742) and [Proof Positive](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17928500/chapters/42483371#workskin) )

“Conor William Hale, sit still and let me put your seatbelt on,” Peter admonishes.

Conor pouts at the use of his full name. “Don’t want to. Wanna _see,_ ” he insists, kneeling up on the seat and peering out the window of the plane. Stiles sighs. Their four year old has the stubbornness of her and Peter combined, and it makes things…interesting, sometimes. Luckily, Peter revels in being a full time parent, and has made it his business to learn the ins and outs of dealing effectively with Conor and his quirks.

Today, Peter’s having none of it. “Conor, if you don’t put your seatbelt on the plane can’t leave, and there’ll be no holiday,” he says sternly.

“No waterfalls?” Conor's bottom lip wobbles, but Peter doesn't weaken.

“Not if you don’t let me buckle you up. You’ll wear that seatbelt and you’ll keep it on until someone tells you it’s okay to take it off.” Conor gets a determined set to his jaw, and for a moment there’s a fierce battle of eyebrows, but then Peter lets his eyes flash gold and Conor wilts under his stare. He knows by now - the eyes mean Daddy's serious. He settles into his seat with a huff and Peter quickly straps him in before he can change his mind.

Conor sulks right until takeoff, when he’s distracted by the sounds and sights around him and the excitement of the plane actually moving, and he’s mainly settled when the flight attendant comes past once they’re airborne. The attendant gives Conor an activity pack with a coloring book, crayons, and a sheet of stickers, and she gets an enthusiastic ‘Thank you!’ and his biggest smile in return.

“Oh, isn’t he adorable?” she coos.

“Thank you, we think so,” Peter replies, and gives the woman a smile that matches Conor’s. Stiles has to fight not to roll her eyes at her husband’s preening. Conor is Peter's pride and joy, even if he is a stubborn little shit. (Stiles suspects it’s partly _because_ he’s a stubborn little shit.) But Conor’s also, objectively, an attractive child. He has the best of the both of them, with wide honey colored eyes, chestnut hair that falls in soft curls, exquisitely chiselled features, and the Hale jawline. He’s grown into his ears, and Stiles has no doubt he’ll be as handsome as Peter when he gets older.

The flight attendant crouches down. “Is this your first time on a plane, little man?”

Conor nods, and then points at the window. “I wanted to look, but Daddy said no, cos he’s mean,” he explains. “He tied me to the chair,” he adds, as if the seatbelt is some sort of medieval torture device. His bottom lip starts to quiver and his eyes widen pitifully, and looking slightly alarmed, the woman produces some extra stickers and a candy bar from her cart. “Here, these will keep you entertained. As soon as that little light goes off, then you can take the belt off okay?” she promises, and Conor’s face lights up in a triumphant smile at being given the okay for a future jailbreak. Stiles has to admire the way he’s worked the system – technically, _someone_ said he can take the belt off.

“Such a con artist. He is _so_ your son,” Stiles mutters in Peter’s ear.

“I’d certainly hope so,” Peter answers, his smile at his son’s antics widening.

“Well, you can chase him up and down the aisles,” Stiles tells him firmly. “I’m on holiday, and this whole thing was your idea.”

She settles back into her seat and slips her headphones on, and true to her word, lets Conor be his father’s problem for the rest of the flight.

* * *

“You have the best ideas,” she murmurs later, as they lay twined around each other in the hotel’s big bed. Conor’s sleeping soundly in the other bedroom, and they’ve spent an extremely satisfying hour reliving their honeymoon. “I didn’t know how much I needed the break.”

“Hmm. I did. You’re been working too many hours, and you’re tired,” Peter says, one hand tracing lazy patterns against her skin, “and Conor’s old enough to enjoy the falls. He’ll love it.”

He will, Stiles knows. Conor is a water baby, always has been. Swimming pools, baths, showers, rivers, lakes - if there’s a body of water, you can be sure Conor is in it or near it. He can already swim – lessons became a priority as soon as they realized he was likely to dive headfirst into water. So really, this was an obvious choice for their first real family vacation. Stiles suspects Niagara’s going to become their go-to spot, and she can’t say she minds – she has a lot of fond memories of the place.

She shifts closer to Peter, arranging herself so one of his thighs is pressed between her legs, and starts to roll her hips. They don't get nearly enough time to themselves, and she's determined to make the most of it. “You know, Conor's asleep. And it’s early. And I’m not sleepy.”

Peter tenses the muscle in his thigh, and the arm draped around her pulls her closer. “Oh dear. What on earth can we do to make you tired?” he says with a salacious grin.

Stiles returns it as she pushes him onto his back and straddles him, feels him hardening beneath her. “I have some ideas.”

* * *

“This was a terrible idea,” Peter grumbles as he struggles to hold onto the squirming toddler. “Conor, stay here!” He’s not any more comfortable with Conor going near the sides of the boat than he is when Stiles does it.

Conor ignores him, wiggling free, and when he makes his escape he darts over to Stiles, arms held up for her to lift him so he can see over the rails. “Look! Waterfall!” His arms are extended and he flails excitedly even as the water drenches him, trying to grab at the tiny rainbows that shimmer in the spray. His sheer excitement makes the people around them laugh, and Stiles joins in, but it’s not only her son she’s laughing at, it’s also Peter. He’s standing well back from the railings, one hand on his hip like a stern middle school teacher, the other hand pointing to a spot in front of him. “Will you _please_ both get over here and away from the edge?” 

Stiles is torn – she knows Peter hates it when they’re in any perceived danger, but Conor’s having the time of his life, and it seems like a shame to ruin it for him. In the end, she decides that one of her men is an adult, so he’s the one who can deal. She gives him a _what can you do?_ look and shrugs, and then gets on with the business of enjoying the way Conor’s giggling helplessly every time he get soaked by another spray of water.

Peter lasts fifteen minutes, and then there are strong arms around her waist, steering her relentlessly away from the side of the boat. “So there are two of you who like to terrify me now?” Peter says, exasperation evident. “Are you _trying_ to give me a heart attack?”

He looks completely frazzled – wet hair, wet clothes, worry creasing his brow, and Stiles decides to take pity on him. Now seems like the perfect moment to give him her news. She’d planned on telling him this weekend anyway. “Poor thing. How on earth will you cope when there’s another one, I wonder?”

Peter blinks at her, hands still holding her close. It’s almost comical, the way his jaw drops open. “Another one?“

She grins up at him. “Yeah. You know that thing we were trying? That _let’s ditch the pill and just see what happens_ thing? It happened. I’m eight weeks.”

She squeals when he picks her up with Conor still wedged between them and spins her round, before setting her gently on her feet and immediately starting to fuss. “Do you feel all right? Do you need to sit down? Put Conor down, he’s too heavy! Just let me -“

She silences him with a kiss.


End file.
